Morning sunlight filtered through the smoke and chaos left behind by the "incident."
The amusement park, once a stage for entertainment, now looked like a war zone — trampled props, broken fences, scorch marks from the flare Aria had fired into the night.
The survivors huddled near the main gate, dazed. Crew members swarmed the area, pretending to "reset the set." The host wore sunglasses to hide the fact he'd been crying.
The moment the cameras blinked red again, he smiled like nothing had happened.
> "Welcome back, viewers! What an intense simulation last night, huh? Don't worry — everyone's safe!"
Aria raised a brow, still holding a first-aid kit she'd stolen from a medic. "Simulation?" she muttered. "That's one word for it."
---
Bianca sat nearby, pale and quiet for once. She hadn't spoken since the attack.
The production team had ordered everyone to sign a "confidentiality clause" before filming resumed.
Aria skimmed it — one glance, one smirk.
"You want us to sign a legal lie," she said flatly.
Marcus, the producer, tried his practiced smile. "It's just standard procedure, Miss Lane. For everyone's safety."
Aria tapped the pen against the table. "Funny. Every time someone says that, people end up dead."
The crew exchanged nervous glances.
"Aria," Kelly whispered from behind the barricade, "please. Just sign it. Keep your head down."
Aria's voice softened — almost kind. "Kelly, I haven't kept my head down since I was fifteen. Don't start wishing for miracles now."
She leaned forward, pressing her signature deliberately on the form —
and right beneath it, in small block letters, she wrote: "Noted under protest."
The cameras caught it.
The livestream cut to her just as she set the pen down.
> 💬 "Did she just sass them on legal documents??"
💬 "'Noted under protest'—Queen behavior."
💬 "The way she's calm while everyone's panicking 😭"
💬 "Production trying to cover something up again!"
Marcus's polite façade cracked. "Miss Lane, this isn't—"
She looked up slowly, the faintest smile on her lips. "If this isn't live, feel free to edit me out."
He froze. The cameras were definitely rolling.
---
Later, during an on-camera "reassurance interview," Aria was paired with Bianca for damage control.
Bianca trembled through her rehearsed lines: "We're all so grateful to the production team… for keeping us safe…"
Then it was Aria's turn.
The host smiled nervously. "Miss Lane, after last night, the viewers are calling you a hero. How do you feel?"
She tilted her head. "Like I need breakfast."
Laughter exploded from the chat.
The host chuckled awkwardly. "And, uh, about the rumors that something unscripted happened—?"
"Oh, that," Aria said mildly. "It's funny. Everyone keeps saying it's fake, but I saw someone bleed. If that's acting, give him an award."
The room went dead silent.
The producer made a throat-cutting motion off camera.
Aria kept smiling.
> 💬 "She's exposing them LIVE??"
💬 "Girl doesn't care about contracts 😭"
💬 "I'm telling you, something's seriously wrong with that show."
---
When the feed finally cut, Marcus cornered her outside the tent.
"Are you trying to destroy this production?" he hissed.
"Not yet," she said. "But you're tempting me."
"Whatever stunt you're pulling—stop. We're watching you."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough to make him sweat.
"Then you already know that lying to me isn't smart."
Marcus paled. For a second, he looked like he might actually say something — but then his gaze darted past her shoulder.
A man in a red vest stood watching from the shadows, his face unreadable.
Aria didn't look back. She didn't need to.
"Next time you threaten me," she said softly, "make sure your backup doesn't blink like a rookie."
She walked away before either of them could respond.
---
Back at camp, Kelly ran up to her, frantic.
"They're furious! You just humiliated Marcus on a global stream!"
"Good," Aria said. "He needed practice."
Kelly stared. "This isn't funny, Aria. They can sue you!"
"Let them try. The court of public opinion's already on my side."
Her tablet pinged — another flood of notifications.
She scrolled through them lazily until one caught her eye: a fan-made clip of her saying "If that's acting, give him an award."
The edit had gone viral with cinematic music and slow-motion flames.
Caption: "When the weak one smiles."
Aria laughed under her breath. "Not bad. I'd watch that show."
Kelly slumped. "You're impossible."
"Efficient," Aria corrected.
---
That night, while the others tried to sleep, Aria slipped away to the edge of the park.
The Ferris Wheel transmitter blinked once, then twice — a reply signal.
Someone had received her message.
She crouched by the metal frame, whispering into the night. "Alright, boys. If you're here, come find me. But be quick — I'm getting bored."
In the distance, a drone changed direction — not one of production's.
It hovered for a moment, scanning her, before vanishing into the dark.
---
In the HQ feed room, the man in the red vest watched the footage replay on a private monitor.
His earpiece buzzed.
> "Target confirmed," said a voice. "Aria Lane is A-01."
"Proceed?"
He hesitated, glancing at the monitor again — at the woman smiling faintly into the night, utterly fearless.
> "No," he said finally. "Not yet. Let's see what she does next."
---
Aria stood alone under the broken Ferris Wheel, the moonlight glinting off her eyes.
Somewhere out there, the ghosts of her past were watching.
Perfect.
She smiled. "Smile back, boys," she murmured. "You'll need it."